Henryk Frostcourt
the Red Winter Count
Named for the frozen throne of a king who lost his war against the sun, and for the home that melted when he was not there to defend it.
Power
You can call your spilled blood to congeal into a pack of shadow-hounds that hunt by scent of life, but each hound costs you a day of memory lost to the fog.
- Familiar
- A one-eyed wolverine named Gris
- Bloodline
- The Feral Court
You will not drink from the willing. Their blood tastes of surrender, flat and blue. You prefer the fire of a fight, the salt of fear — it keeps you sharp, keeps you from forgetting what you are. But every time you take, you leave a trail of grief that the living can follow, and they have learned to track you.